Her Hair - Poem by James Whitcomb Riley

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The beauty of her hair bewilders me- Pouring adown the brow, its cloven tideSwirling about the ears on either sideAnd storming round the neck tumultuously:Or like the lights of old antiquityThrough mullioned windows, in cathedrals wideSpilled moltenly o'er figures deifiedIn chastest marble, nude of drapery.And so I love it- . Either unconfined; Or plaited in close braidings manifold; Or smoothly drawn; or indolently twinedIn careless knots whose coilings come unrolledAt any lightest kiss; or by the windWhipped out in flossy ravellings of gold.